I can find the humor in Anxiety. The fears and tensions seep laughter. Her absurd nature invites smiles and chuckles. I can separate myself from the impulses and laugh at Anxiety’s jocose desire to control and manage my life. I am not Anxiety. I am Jocelyn, also jocose. Anxiety and I are friends. We have to be.

However, Depression…Depression is a different creature. Depression is a thief. He steals my desires. He terminates my creativity. He robs laughter. When Depression visits, there is no reason to do the things I love, because he has taken the joy and stuffed it in the closet. When Depression comes, the things I love become insipid acts of routine.

Smiles are forced to hide Depression’s influence on me. Laughter is calculated to camouflage Depression's control of me. Life is staged to mask Depression’s power over me.

Despite Depression whispering in my ear that everything is futile, I cling to my routine because I know Depression and I are not friends. Depression even chases my friend Anxiety away and leaves me wishing that the world would forget about me so I can hide under the bed with the whirls of dust that have collected there.

Depression wants to watch me create loneliness in my life. Depression delights when he notes the meticulous order dissolve into an entropic mess. Depression sneers when I ignore phone calls from people I love and avoid humanity.

I don’t like Depression. I am delighted that he is not visiting me anymore. He decided to leave unannounced. For which I am grateful. After spending time with Depression these last few months, I have never welcomed spending time with my friend Anxiety as much as I do now.

Anxiety and I are friends, although I don’t enjoy taking her to the grocery store.